Matt Buchanan

It's the second day of the New Year and downstairs at 32 Ebley Street, Bondi Junction, the gym is closed.

Upstairs, however, it's all thud, whump and buffeting air as the trainee fighters at Igor MMA (mixed martial arts) grapple in pairs, sparring and sweating on the wrestling mats beneath a low ceiling, each crash and thump an accent on the hard rock playing in the background.

There are about 20 people training, among them three women in their 20s. In one corner sits co-proprietor Igor Praporschikov, a wrestler for Australia at the Sydney Olympics. The other dominating feature of the room: a fighting cage, ominous yet vacant.

Mixed martial arts is, as its name suggests, an amalgam of disciplines built around a principal three: boxing, Thai kickboxing and jujitsu. Its proponents argue that it has been around forever - if not since Cain did for Abel, then at least as far back as the pankration at the ancient Olympic Games, though that was fought to the death.

MMA has also enjoyed an as yet uninterrupted surge in popularity over the past 10 years - especially in its expression through the Ultimate Fighting Championship (a brand, not a discipline) which aggressively promotes its caged bouts with bloody advertisements, and rewards fighters with incentives for knockout strikes and maximal aggression. And, increasingly, MMA and UFC have coalesced in the public's mind as a source of infamy and disgust.

On New Year's Eve, Shaun McNeil, 25, boasted “I'm an MMA fighter”, according to NSW Police, before allegedly putting Daniel Christie into a life-threatening coma, this on the same Kings Cross corner where, 18 months before, Kieran Loveridge, another MMA devotee, "king-hit" several defenceless passers-by before landing an ambush blow on Thomas Kelly, killing him.

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Only weeks ago NSW Police Commissioner Andrew Scipione - addressing the so-called "king-hit" culture, and a lethal craze in the US called “Knockout”, where bystanders are struck unawares - said pictures of the discipline's fighters reminded him of “crime scene photos of victims of assaults on footpaths waiting to be treated by paramedics ...

"[It is] the fastest growing sport in the world for men and women. You can watch it in your lounge room, they are bloody messes, both men and women with blood streaming from their noses.”

'It's a lot more guy-orientated than I thought': Clarice Sam-Ye gets on top of Hugo Miller. Photo: Tony Walters

'A lot of guys tried to fight me in high school'

Hugo Miller, 22, a former rugby and basketball player, is about 1.9 metres tall and has been training at Igor MMA for three years, with a three-one record in contest bouts. He is in great shape, especially for someone, he confesses, who was 140kg when he began training.

“After high school I had a bit of a problem with anxiety and depression,” he said, “and I needed something to keep my mind focused.”

After high school I had a bit of a problem with anxiety and depression and I needed something to keep my mind focused.

Miller had a reason not to seek that focus in rugby or basketball.

“I had a lot of guys try to fight me in high school - a lot of guys. And I was not big on fighting. I was always very passive, submissive. I guess I just needed that confidence, to conquer that fear […] They never fought one-on-one.”

'I'm an MMA fighter': according to police Shaun McNeil spoke of his fighting skills before his alleged attack on Daniel Christie.

Like everyone else at Igor MMA, Miller is aware of the poor reputation MMA and UFC have in the public's mind. He says properly trained MMA fighters are taught to exhibit restraint, not use their skills for revenge or bullying.

What, then, about the king-hits, and other acts of violence on the public by MMA enthusiasts?

“Learning martial arts, it can be used both ways. It can go good and it can go bad. Teaching martial arts, people need a path where they don't feel a need to be aggressive.”

Zushe Straiton is 17, still at school, and has been training for just over a year.

“I love everything about it," he says. “The skill-set you learn, the adrenalin when you're rolling with somebody. I did weights before I got here, but now I focus on the MMA aspect [because] once I finish school, I want to fight professionally.”

Straiton allows that his new strength and skills make him feel more powerful and self-assured outside the training room.

“But you also learn self-control, which some people don't understand. Most of us aren't violent people. So we don't go looking for fights. We know when to back away.”

As for the assault on Daniel Christie, and others assaults like it?

“I haven't spoken to anyone here about it yet, but it was disappointing. It tarnishes the sport. People think 'you do MMA, you're a violent person'. [But] it's a sport like anything else, and obviously some people will use it for the wrong things, and it's unfortunate.”

“It's a lot more than just force,” says Clarice Sam-Ye, 21, who came to MMA looking for something that would marry the thoughtfulness of jujitsu with the testing physicality of gymnastics, and add something else. “There's the strength, and flexibility, and all the physicality, but technical proficiency – that's where you'll win.

“[But] it's a lot more guy-orientated than I thought.”

'It's a different style of lifestyle to fitness'

Igor MMA's other proprietor, Igor Breakenback (his surname is, he says, “a play on words”), is adamant the sport offers a means to tame aggression which might otherwise express itself more wildly.

“I think to a certain extent it is in human nature to fight. I don't endorse it, but it is part of who we are, and if we can harness it in a civilised way, in a sport, then it can become a positive outlet.”

Breakenback says there is a gulf between MMA and its commercial form in Ultimate Fighting Championship.

“The highest level of competition is UFC, and the UFC probably is trying too much to create a product rather than promote a sport. When that happens, “things can go in certain directions you maybe wouldn't want them to go as a coach".

“Obviously, you want to protect your athletes. [But] as part of UFC today there bonuses for a knockout, bonuses for submissions, bonuses for finishing a fight early, and there are bonuses if you are the most aggressive fighter on the night.”

Miller also sees a chasm between MMA and UFC.

"For UFC, a brand, it's all about making money. For a fighter it's different. [UFC's brand of martial arts] becomes a bit worse when it's fuelling, or enticing the fighter to go for the knockout by offering extra money for it.”

But knockouts are so common it doesn't sound like there's much need for an incentive.

“Every time I go to a show, there's obviously someone going to get knocked out. It's part of the sport.”

Breakenback doesn't lay apparent misperceptions about MMA at UFC's feet. He says an environment has grown around the sport fostered by “marketers, gyms, the internet” which combine to create “a culture not under anyone's control.

“I see a lot of people who are not educated about MMA,” he says “whose perception of what it is very different to what they experience on the mat.” Breakenback adds that when some discover they're not going to knock someone out as soon as they like, they get disheartened and give up.”

For others it is rather too physical a way to replace jogging.

“It's a different style of lifestyle to fitness.”

To Breakenback, UFC's representation of MMA as bloody brawling in a cage is not just an offence to MMA's spirit but an adapt-or-die threat to the discipline itself. Yet, for all that, there is also a sense of ambivalence, a sense that some gulfs might yet be worth bridging for the riches on the other side.